


No Regrets

by Otaku_girl



Category: Avengers, Captain America (Movies), Captain America Civil War, Iron Man (Movies), Ironman, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dark, Depression, Gen, Mentions of Suicide, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Suicide, Will probably delete in the morning, no happy ending, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 13:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15582561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otaku_girl/pseuds/Otaku_girl
Summary: It takes three weeks for them to find him.





	No Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not sure how well written this is, but I would like to warn that this could be potentially triggering for anyone who is in a bad place or may have considered suicide. Please do not continue if you may find mentions of suicide triggering.

It takes three weeks for them to find him.  
Without her creator, Friday has the workshop on lockdown. Had she the years of experience Jarvis had, perhaps she would have contacted someone, anyone, sooner.  
As things stood, she couldn’t see the logic in contacting any one person.  
Colonel Rhodes was still in recovery, awaiting surgery after surgery. Bossman had come back in tears after the last visit where Mama Rhodes had not unkindly, but firmly told him to give them space, to let them grieve and make their peace with Jamses new lot in life.  
Ms. Potts hadn’t called since the signing. With the Civil War behind them, an airport in ruins, more than half his old team on the run, and charges for breaking the accords on the horizon, she said she didn’t have a choice. It was out of her hands. All he needed to do was to sign to say he had received the boards letter. He would need to be out within 30 days. As a Stark he had never signed a non-compete clause, but she warned him that they would leave him tied up in lawsuits fees and meetings indefinitely if he tried.  
With Spidey back in school, and the old gang gone their separate ways once more, there really was nothing left for him.  
What start d as an attempt to reframe the past quickly became an obsession. His time spent using barf soon began to outweigh his time outside of it.  
With the deadline looming closer and closer, he couldn’t see any other way.  
His last call was to Vision. One last try, one last attempt to reach out. It w not to voicemail.  
They found the papers first. 31 days since he had last seen or spoken to another person.  
He left Dummy, U and Butterfingers to the local community college as promised, along with a generous stipend and instructions to not mess with his babies code.  
The plans for a new suit lay on his workbench. Not a new iron man suit, but a body for Friday. One that he would never build. One that, even with his specs and equipment, few of any others would have the skill to turn into a reality even if Friday would give up the location of her servers, something she seemed reluctant to do.  
Without bossman she felt so lost. She couldn’t understand at first, why he had disabled her visuals. With no eyes in the lab, she had become nervous. Even more so when he had begun apologising.  
Comparing it to the scattered lines of code left behind by Jarvis, she would say it was reminiscent of his palladium poisoning days; near drunken rambling, an overwhelming focus on his own failings, an unmovable air of hopelessness, of desperation for someone - anyone - to step up and say something to quieten the deafening sounds of his despair.  
No one came, as his last whispered apologies fell in the early hours of the morning.  
No on called, as he disconnected the audio feed to the lab, wanting to spare his baby girl his final moments.  
No one saw as he sent his bots out into the safety of the garage, away from what was about to happen.  
No one thought of him in the hours, the days, the weeks that came.  
No one considered what he had been going through. How he had struggled and cried and begged in his own way to be seen, for help, for anyone to answer his calls.  
And so he did it. Without fanfare, without remorse. Leaving behind over a dozen suits, countless equipment upgrades and plans that would never come to fruition, all designed with care and thought for his former team, his family.  
Happy lead the security detail as they broke into the workshop, ready to remove the stubborn former billionaire as the thirty first day rolled around.  
No note. No final words. No recording to say goodbye.  
They combed through his phone records, his emails, his files, desperately trying to track his final moments, to find some hint that it was some elaborate ploy or that foul play had been afoot.  
A slew of unanswered calls - being made, not received.  
Almost a hundred hours logged on the barf system over the course of that last week.  
No way of telling what he had been reliving, now his memories lay between the grout, long since dried in the days that he lay undiscovered.  
He chose to leave with a bang rather than the whimper his life was soon to become. He didn’t need them to understand why. This would be his final selfish choice in the eyes of many, but to him? It was one final moment of compassion, of self-love. After years of living to serve the whims of others, he chose to make his final moments his own.  
He left no regrets.


End file.
